blessed are those who trespass..

Blessed are those who trespass, for theirs is the abandoned space, the forgotten space, the “I don’t wanna go back there” space.

Painful.

Insightful.

Unfathomable.

Hold that space..make it muse-um, learn to sit with her painfully adorned walls, busy with the abstract of memories so mysterious, yet torment — the depths of realism so mundane, yet refreshing. Walk silently through her corridors, listen intently for her muse..

Critique.

Admonish.

Reflect.

..but most of all, be reminded —that in this space— YOU, yes you, are the very light that determines the darkest or brightest of days onto greyed walls. Your story is not finished, the pages are simply waiting for the substance of The Divine. Be still..breathe..steady thy beat, give your soul some spine — utter thy pain — stutter thy pride.

You, are gift!